


Little Blue Riding Hood

by orphan_account



Series: October Fic-A-Thon [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Chases, Consensual Non-Consent, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, Interspecies Sex, Knotting, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Rimming, Rough Sex, Were-Creatures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-19 02:31:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8185828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: When Lance left the house to go to Allura's costume party the last thing he expected was to be chased down by a werewolf. A werewolf who is very interested in his ass.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Further warnings/explanations at the bottom.

Lance was one of those people who watched horror movies and snickered when the beautiful girl tripped over her heels while running from the killer. He shouted at the screen, told them to get up, kick their shoes off, stop whimpering...anything, really. He rolled his eyes because it was just so stupid to fall when you're mere feet from being slaughtered and then stumble and trip, unable to get back up. It's stupid to run through the woods in heels. 

And yet when his heel caught a root and he went careening forward and right over the edge of an embankment to crash onto the damp riverbank a few feet below he found he couldn't move right away. Pain flared where he'd hit the ground, his ankle had been wrenched oddly, and he was pretty sure his heel had snapped clean off. His heart was thumping in his chest, beating against his ribcage, he was breathing hard, and he just...couldn’t make himself move. He needed to, knew he did, but he stayed where he was, peering up the embankment into glittering gold eyes. 

Something settled in his stomach, fear and something else he didn't want to acknowledge. He pushed up and managed to backpedal over the soft earth a little but didn't get to his feet. Not even when the man-monster- chasing him slid down to him, eyes bright like lamps in the darkness, lips pulled back over razor sharp teeth, claws extended. His shirt clung to him like a ruined cloak and his jeans were split along the seams, unable to accommodate the bulk that had come when he'd gone from super hot guy to...this. 

Lance swallowed, eyes darting around anxiously for something, anything, he could use to his advantage. The monster stood over him, hungry eyes raking over him.

“So what?” He asked, mentally cursing his tendency to run at the mouth when he was tense. “Is this the part where you eat me?” 

The monster didn't exactly smile, inhuman mouth not quite made for it, but Lance got the impression of it when lips drew back and teeth flashed. His words were guruttel and slurred, like his mouth wasn't made for them either. “Something like that.” 

When Lance had left his apartment earlier that night he'd been in a great mood. No work after classes, a costume party was on the agenda for the night, and he knew he looked hot enough to get laid (and so he'd gamely thrown condoms and lube into his basket/purse because he was a responsible guy, thanks.) He'd hit Allura’s house and he'd been able to feel heads turn when he walked into the dining hall. 

It was supposed to be a fun, potentially filthy, night. 

He was Little Blue Riding Hood, because he looked best in blue. And because Allura had vetoed his swanky cat costume. A dark blue knee length skirt complete with under skirts to give it fullness and let hints of lace show under the hem. White blouse, dark blue underbust corset (not that Lance had a bust to speak of but he liked to think he made it work) laced up with black leather cord. A blue hooded cloak, tied around his neck, long enough to hit the back of his knees, black stocking, and some heeled boots he liked to think were very ‘Fuck me’. A little makeup, sweeps of blue and heavy black over the eyes, and matte blue lipstick and he'd considered himself appropriately over the top and ready. 

Allura had taken one look at him, sighed deeply, then told him to go have fun. He could tell she was just grateful he'd left the booty shorts and cat ears at home this year. 

He'd mingled, had a few drinks, chatted up a few lovely ladies and handsome guys, and was generally enjoying himself when he'd zeroed in on a guy in the corner, away from most of the action. Tall, about Lance's height, wide shouldered, thick armed, gray eyes, black hair with an odd white patch in the front, and just basically really hot. Plus he'd been rocking some crazy realistic looking wolf ears and Lance did appreciate a nice theme.

So he'd headed over, opened with “So, are you going to be my big bad wolf?”, been rewarded with a burst of warm laughter touched with surprise, and that had been that. Hot guy’s name was Shiro, he and Allura were old friends, and he was a cop. They’d wandered outside into the warm fall air, Lance pleasantly buzzed as he tugged the older man around to the back of Allura’s estate (having rich friends was awesome) to the pool house on the edge of the woods that surrounded the grounds. 

He'd been oh so close to coaxing him into the pool house, pressing blue lip prints all over a strong neck and jawline, pressing his thigh against what felt like an impressive bulge, when Shiro had shuddered against him and attempted to push him away. 

If Lance thought about it he’d noticed, distantly, that Shiro’s eyes were less gray and more a mercurial silver that caught the light of the moon and seemed almost golden for a moment. But he’d been thinking with his dick so. Instead he’d pushed himself closer, put his arms around Shiro’s neck, kissed him long and slow, and murmured something about how this was the part where the wolf was supposed to chase him.    
Hindsight: very serious mistake.     
Shiro’s face had contorted like he was in pain. Then his whole body had contorted, gotten taller and more muscular, burst right out of his clothes, sprouted hair all over. He’d fallen forward, clawed hands scraping at the stone pathway outside of the pool house, and spoken in a voice that seemed strangled, like it was fighting to get free.   
“Run.”   
Lance ran. 

He hadn't done the smart thing and headed back for the house. He'd been too mixed up, too startled and terrified and  _ what the fuck  _ to do anything but turn around and bolt without thought. He’d plunged into the trees and just...ran. The ground had been slick and soft, making it hard to keep his footing and low hanging branches had snagged at his hair and clothing, yanking and pulling, scratching at his skin. 

The light of the moon and stars came and went, often blocked out by the forest canopy and soon enough everything around him looked exactly the same. It was impossible to think about anything but putting one foot in front of the other, about not stopping, about the burning in his lungs and pain crawling up his side. About the heavy breathing that seemed to echo from all directions and the heavy footfall he was sure was coming closer and closer. 

He imagined he could feel the monster’s breath on the back of his neck. His mind filled in tearing claws for sharp underbrush a time or two, played tricks on him that made his heart leap and footing slip as he jumped away and turned to try a different path through the forest. He couldn’t see him, could barely see more than a few feet in front of himself as he ran, grateful to not collide with anything, but he could hear him and that kept him moving. 

Until he couldn’t hear him. No heavy breathing, not rustling of leaves or snapping of twigs underfoot, no bushes being shoved through or snarls rending the air. He let himself think that maybe he’d outrun the monster or that it had gotten bored and gone in search of easier prey or had turned back into a not monster, and slowed down to try and draw air into screaming lungs. He knew he shouldn’t stop, that logically there was no way he’d gotten away, but his legs were heavy and burning, he couldn’t breathe, and his chest was painfully tight. It felt like his body wouldn’t be able to take another step if he didn’t stop and regroup. 

He stopped to lean against a tree, sucking in air and trying not to make too much noise, going so far as to put his hand over his mouth and nose to block the noise. 

And then the monster was there, shoving him hard into the tree, massive arms on either side of him, trapping him, looming over him. His breath was hot and wet, brushing over him with each heave of the monster’s broad chest, and all Lance could see was teeth and a long tongue licking over them. 

A powerful leg thrust between his legs and pressed up and Lance gasped in surprise. He was still hard, dick seemingly indifferent to the whole ‘chased by some sort of terrible werewolf’ matter and now Shiro’s leg, thick and firm under his fur, was rubbing against him. He wasn’t sure why he was still rock hard but. There it was. 

The monster let out a huff of laughter as he leaned in to rub a cool wet nose against his neck then inhaled before dragging his tongue, rough and far too long to be mistake for human, against his skin. Lance cringed, tried to shrink back but there was nowhere to go. “Thought you wanted to be chased?”

Lance whimpered as Shiro’s thigh pressed harder, forced him up to his toes, made him shudder. Teeth grazed his skin, so sharp he was held his breath too afraid to even breath, and then Shiro’s tongue was back, sweeping over his neck and down towards his collarbone.  

He tried to push the werewolf away but it was like pushing a brick wall. A living, breathing brick wall that was hot and furry under his touch. Shiro pushed closer, crowded him, and claws touched his leg. They were sharp and his stockings split and gave away as if they were made of paper as claws dragged up and under his skirt. 

He lashed out, slammed his foot down on the werewolf’s foot. A pained howl shook the air and Shiro reared back; Lance’s ears were ringing but that didn’t stop him from ducking under one of Shiro’s arms and taking off again. He stumbled, almost fell when Shiro swiped at him and caught his cloak, shredding it and almost managing to yank him back. He managed to stay more or less upright and made his legs move in spite of the pain and the ever increasing urge to curl into a ball and scream. Shiro howled again, sharp and furious, and Lance’s stomach dropped to somewhere around his feet, 

He did not sound happy. 

This time he followed Lance like an animal possessed, crashing through the underbrush and growling. Lance didn’t dare look back or let himself think about how very close the werewolf sounded, or how angry.  Except it was hard to not think about it and even harder to not give in to the urge to peek. 

So he did and got an eyeful of glowing eyes and snarling lips. 

It was at this point that his foot got caught and he went tumbling down towards the small creek that ran through Allura’s property and ended up on the ground, staring up at the thing that was now Shiro. 

Fuck he was big. 

And fast as hell. Between one heartbeat and the next he pounced on Lance, grabbed hold and flipped him onto his stomach then came down on him hard, pinning him to the soft damp earth. Lance yelped in surprise then groaned when Shiro’s body weight, and there was a lot of it, forced all the air from his lungs. If he’d thought it was hard to breathe while running then having Shiro on top of him made it impossible. He wheezed and gasped, nails digging into the dirt, and found he was starting to feel lightheaded.

His neck was nuzzled again, Shiro’s nose dragging over the nape. Everything about him was solid, like he was made of stone under the the ink black fur covering his body, and Lance could feel all of his body on top of him, pressing down on him. 

Which included a very large something pressing against Lance’s ass. 

“Oh god.” He whispered, eyes widening. That left little doubt to Shiro’s intentions and...there was just no way. Everything else aside (and there was a lot of everything else) that thing felt massive. It would tear him apart. 

Hands (paws?) skimmed his body; they were large and warm through his clothes, seemed to leave an impression of heat in their wake. Shiro shifted and sat up some to sit upright on his legs. He still couldn’t move, one hand in the middle of his back was a heavy threat, but he could beathe. Lance inhaled musty air greedily and barely registered the monster’s hands touching his legs until he felt the tips of claws grabbing at where his stockings had already been split. 

His stockings were ripped away roughly in the back, stretching and then tearing under Shiro’s hand, until he was exposed from knee to ass. His skirt and underskirts didn’t fare much better, reduced to shreds that were just barely held together and clinging to him in seconds, leaving him shivering and in his briefs. But those two were ruined, Shiro hooking his claws in then shredding them. They were tossed to the side and out of sight carelessly. 

“Wait!” Lance shouted, twisting around to look back at Shiro. “Don’t do this. Please, please don’t do this.”

Shiro let out a rumbling noise, low and amused, as he lifted up off of him. Lance was up on his knees and trying to get away as soon as the pressure was gone but a hand around his ankle yanked him back hard enough that he ended up on his face. Shiro dragged him back a little further; Lance thrashed and tried to claw at the dirt to anchor himself but it meant nothing in comparison to Shiro’s strength.  A knee came down in the middle of his back and his hands were grabbed, both wrists easily fitting in one of Shiro’s hands. Some of the ruined scraps of his skirt found their way around his wrists, binding them together above his head, and another scrap was fit around his eyes. 

It was dark and he’d barely been able to see anyway but something about losing any ability to do so made him want to cry. He twisted around harder, made an attempt at biting Shiro and wrenching his head away but in the end the blindfold was in place and there was nothing he could do about it. 

“Don’t worry.” Shiro slurred as he lifted up again. There was no time to try to get away again and, Lance knew, no point. “You’ll like this.”

His hips were gripped and dragged up until he was on his knees then one was between his thighs, forcing his legs apart and exposing his asshole to the werewolf’s eyes. His cock, traitorous thing that it was, was still mostly hard and hanging down, heavy and drooling precum. Shiro squeezed his hips, He inhaled sharply, tensing for what he knew must be about to come and

Yelped as warm wetness laved over his hole. Shiro’s tongue? It was long and wide, far more so than a human tongue, and left a trail of drool up the crack of his ass then, on the next pass, down to his balls. He squirmed, flushing in horror as Shiro began to lick over his hole in long slow strokes. He didn’t seem to be in a rush, content to lick around the hole, over in, until Lance’s body started to relax under the teasing onslaught. Electricity ran up his spine with every touch of Shiro’s mouth on him, lazily working him open.

He let out a noise he didn’t mean to make, back bowing as Shiro’s tongue swirled and dipped into him. He knew he shouldn’t like it, tried to steel himself against it, but Shiro didn’t waste any time in licking deeper, curling his tongue and making it stiff as it sank in and stroked against his inner muscles. His mouth was hot, letting out puffs of air right over the sensitive pucker, lips full and firm against him when he was finally flush against Shiro’s face. 

He licked slow lazy circles then faster flat strokes, seeming to leave no part of him untouched or untasted. Lance pushed his face into the dirt, bit his lip to muffle himself, but couldn’t help but tremble when Shiro’s tongue started to fuck in and out of him. He was hot, sweating even though it was just warm enough to be comfortable out, toes curling in his boots and eyes burning. He didn’t know what to think or do, didn’t want to think and wished he could block out the wet dripping sounds coming from behind him. 

“Fuck.” He breathed out sharply as the flat of Shiro’s tongue pressed down and made him see stars and one of those huge hands slide around to grasp his dick. His hips pushed forward, deeper in Shiro’s grip, and . “Fu-uuccck! I- you- no, don’t, oh god fuckfuckfuckuhnf-” 

Three fuzz covered fingers pushed past his lips, deep into his mouth, and rested heavy on his tongue, cutting off his words. He bit down on reflex in the same moment he pushed his tongue up, trying to force the fingers free. Shiro didn’t so much as flinch. 

His tongue dragged out of him with a filthy slurp. “Suck. That might be the only lube you get.” 

Lance shuddered again but, swallowing a whimper, did as he was told. He hollowed out his cheeks and sucked, tongue sliding up and down the thick digits and trying to coat them with as much saliva as he could. They were long too, which forced him to bob open up a little wider, slide down on them to get his tongue all the way down. It was a strange feeling because there was a thin layer of fur, just enough to prickle his tongue and make him feel a little sick. Shiro hummed and nipped at him, teeth grazing his ass. His hand was still on his cock, stroking and twisting, paying attention to just below the head and the tip. It was like he knew just what Lance liked. 

He didn’t have to suck long but Shiro pulling his fingers free was not a relief. He craned his neck around towards where he knew the werewolf was, uncaring that he couldn’t see. Wet fingers touched his spit slick entrance; he jerked away from the touch and whined, low in his throat, when he pulled back and growled at. 

“Stay.” It was barked at him, as order with a threat behind him. The hand on his cock let him go and claws touched his inner thigh, dragged down with just enough pressure to slice into the skin. It didn’t hurt exactly, more like a burn crawling over his skin in three thin lines, but it was enough to get the point across. 

“Please don’t.” He felt small, weak, under Shiro’s large presence and could barely get the words out. They tasted bitter on his tongue, didn’t fit right in his mouth. Shiro shushed him and rubbed a hand over his flank in what might have been at attempt at soothing him.  

When the fingers came back, rubbed at his loosened hole, he held still and did nothing. Shiro didn’t waste any time with delicacy or easing him into it; he pushed two fingers all the way in all at once and went right to to the task of working him open. He wasn’t sure if it was a testament to Shiro’s mouth or his own that it didn’t hurt or was even that uncomfortable. Shiro’s fingers twisted and spread apart, slid over his twitching walls as he was forced to open up around them. A third was added and with it came pressure inside and a full feeling. He groaned softly, cock throbbing as he was opened up further, and pressed his forehead harder against the ground.

He’d expected the claws to catch and scratch at him but that never happened. He felt them, the impression of sharpness and it was enough to make his heart leap into his throat, but pain never came. Even when a fourth finger wiggled inside of him it didn’t hurt; Shiro’s fingers were thick, so very thick, and when they were together it was easily as big as some of Lance’s toys and when they spread apart he grunted at the stretch and pressure inside. 

Shiro didn’t spend a long time at that either and, all too soon, was pulling his fingers free. Lance heard him spit and a slick sound then a hand was gripping his hip and dragging him back. The blunt head of Shiro’s cock pressed against him, rubbed over his hole. Lance grit his teeth, fingers curling into fists, and then a thought occurred to him. 

“Lube!” Shiro went still, a silent question in the air. Lance swallowed thickly, nervously, shame swirling in his gut. “There’s lube. In my basket.” 

It was just so he didn’t get hurt. To make it easier. 

Shiro didn’t say anything but after a few beats of uneasy silence he moved away. Lance heard him, heavy footsteps thumping against the ground and something rustling and popping open then he was back, kneeling behind him. 

“You were all ready for this weren’t you?” Shiro asked. There was another wet noise; he pictured Shiro’s hands over his cock (and what kind of dick did a werewolf have anyway, aside from clearly massive?) and bit is lip when his heart jumped in his chest. “Slutty little human, just waiting to get fucked by anyone who’d have you.”

“That’s not true!” Lance couldn’t help but defend himself, heat boiling in his chest. It wasn’t true. ...it was...well. He’d wanted. 

It was different. 

“It’s okay.” The monster practically cooed. “I know just what boys like you need.”

The werewolf crowded close, leaned over him, and his cock ground against him. It was slick now, glided over his hole easily, pressed at the tight ring of muscles, and then he was thrusting forward and into him. 

Shiro huffed and hissed as he took him, hips snapping forward hard. Lance shouted at the ground, shaking, and jumping. It burned deep inside of him, Shiro’s cock opening him even wider than his fingers had, wider than he would have thought possible until that moment. He was stuffed full, on the edge of being torn apart or...split in half, couldn’t breath because it was like there was no room in him for air, Shiro was filling all the space there was. 

Then Shiro was gripping his hips, claws pressing into his skin, and pounding into him hard and fast, deep rolling thrusts that seemed to stab into his core. No easing into it, no feeling him out, just dragging out and slamming back in without warning, over and over. He was growling in his ear, teeth catching and tongue dragging along the shell, panting like an animal. He was fucking him like one too, a random senseless rhythm that had him writhing in a strange mix of almost pain and pleasure that settled heavy in his lower stomach, twisted inside of him. It ached, too much too much, but he moaned, pushed back into it when Shiro ground against his prostate, sent sparks flaring to life along his nerves. 

He was pressed tight to his back, hot and shaggy and Lance didn’t know what to liken it to because it wasn’t like anything else. 

Something pressed into him, thicker than everything else, and he gasped then grunted in alarm. Another thrust and it, whatever *it* was, forced its way back in his stretched hole. He winced then moaned as Shiro’s hand found his dick again, quaking under the werewolf’s weight. Shiro’s pace changed, still fast but now shorter motions, grinding into him when the thing at the base of his cock was inside him. He clenched around in, moaned brokenly as it rubbed against sensitive nerves, stretched him wider, caught on it’s way out and pressed against his hole, not quite able to fit back in.

“Can’t-”

“Shhh. Let it in.” Shiro murmured. “Relax.” 

He breathed in, let it out in one great exhale and then it was in and Shiro wasn’t moving anymore. His cock was pulsing, hot and twitching so deep inside of him and the *thing* was...growing. Inside of him. There was a tightening inside of him, more pressure as it swelled bigger and bigger, it was overwhelming and he couldn’t-

“St-stop.” He begged. “Hurts. Hurts.”

“You can take it.” Shiro snarled, yanking him backwards with dizzying strength. “Sluts like you are made for this.” 

Lance shook his head frantically. “Can’t. Please, stop!”

He was sure, for one panicked moment, that he really was going to tear. His eyes watered and he wriggled, tried to, but Shiro held him firmly in place. He arched up against Shiro’s body then went limp as the swelling continued. He flexed around it without meaning to, tightened up, and it was like fire zipping through his blood, scorching his entire body. Shiro's hand worked his cock, stroked it firmly, squeezed at the base and, somehow, Lance came with a whimpering cry, spilling over the werewolf’s hand as tears stung his eyes. 

It was intense. More intense than anything had any right to be. He flexed his muscles again and moaned, drool dripping from his mouth, legs jerking, and his cock jerked, more cum spurting over Shiro’s hand. 

Shiro swore, held him even tighter, and scalding heat surged into him. Pulse after pulse filled him up, poured deep into him. Lance couldn’t take it, thrashed and dug his feet and knees deeper into the dirt. There was no space, he couldn’t hold any more and yet Shiro just kept pumping him full. He imagined he could feel it in his stomach, overflowing out to drip past base of Shiro’s cock and out of his body. 

He didn’t know how long it lasted but when Shiro was spent his sighed deeply, all of his weight suddenly on Lance’s back. He pushed his hips down, forced him flat against sticky dirt, and then laid there, draped over him and nuzzling his neck. It was gentle, sweet, as much as sign that things were different as if Shiro had called a halt to the scene with words.

“Was that okay?” Lance wasn’t sure how to answer that; Shiro’s knot felt huge inside of him, he ached, but it wasn’t...he didn’t mind it. He wasn’t willing to say he liked it, it was so strange, but it was...yeah. Maybe he did sort of like it. “Lance?” 

There was an edge of concern to his voice that tugged him out of the hazy thoughtful place he was. “Yeah. Yeah, that was great.” 

Shiro hummed happily. He’d been nervous about indulging Lance like this, chasing him down and roughing him up a little before fucking him. And the knotting...well that had taken a lot of persuasion. Shiro had never done that with anyone, was afraid of losing control, and Lance had basically been begging him to lose control a little for this. Dangerous when your boyfriend was a werewolf but Lance was willing to consider it a worthwhile risk. 

“A little more dirty talk next time maybe.” 

Shiro snorted. "Sure."

"...how long does this last again?" 

**Author's Note:**

> So. It's consensual non-con. Lance and Shiro are dating, they've discussed this, there was a safe word. Why Lance would want his first knotting experience to be out in the woods while he's face down in the mud I don't know but far be it for me to question him.


End file.
